


Lost In Chaos

by RegalPixieDust



Category: Miami Medical
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPixieDust/pseuds/RegalPixieDust
Summary: A collection of Miami Medical one-shots. Eva/Chris. Prompts welcome!





	1. Peace

She has been sat here since her shift ended forty minutes ago, the key is in the ignition but not yet turned to power the engine and she is staring blankly ahead at the white wall she parked by. The rain is pounding against her car, smacking loudly and thudding against the glass, similar to the shower she just stepped out of.

She'd never ripped scrubs from her body so fast in all her life as a surgeon. They were bloodied to the point beyond any saving, she is almost certain she had left a drip trail all the way to the changing rooms, but she didn't care about that, not then, not while hot water was beating down against her back, almost scolding against her skin and steam rose all around her. She turned slowly, planted her palms on the wall and sighs heavily, sadness weighing on her shoulders and slumping her forward.

When she opened her eyes, she realised that she must have had blood in her hair, it was swirled with the water and circled around the drain as she looked down. So she stood upright and soaked all her hair, scrubbing at in manically with too much shampoo, she let it foam wildly and coat every strand, let it fall down her body… and she cried.

She sobbed painfully and let the noise of the shower drown out her muffled wails while the water disguised her tears.

Every day comes with the potential of being dreadful; it's all part of the job, but there are certainly better and worse days.

Unfortunately, today fell into the worse category.

They lost a patient in the end.  _She_  lost a patient.

A mad five car pile up on a populated highway, speeding cars flowing down lanes and brought a sudden standstill as five families collided in ways no one should ever collide, the effects rippling all the way to the trauma centre and changing the tone of everyone's day.

There were eleven casualties in the end and one fatality.

Rebecca Howard, five years old with a whole life ahead of her if it weren't for the injury Eva had no idea how to control or mend.

"Eva?"

Chris bangs on the glass of the driver side window and scares her half to death, she can taste the fright off of the heart now lurched into her throat. "What are you doing?" He asks, having to shout a little over the rain.

She doesn't say anything, but he can read her mind better than anyone in this hospital. He sighs and lunges around to the passenger side, sitting next to her, completely drenching her seat.

"I want to go home, Chris," she groans while gripping tightly onto her steering wheel.

"Road trip," he says excitedly and buckles up, "Awesome."

She glares at him with annoyance all over her face, but it doesn't faze him at all, "I'm not going anywhere, so you better step on it."

To be frank, she's too tired to argue with him and he has that look about him that exudes just how serious he is. She sparks up the engine and drives in the horrific weather to her apartment in complete silence, not even an over perky voice on the radio to break the tension.

When they arrive, she just expects him to follow her. They climb four flights of stairs even though there is an elevator, but he's physically fit enough that his unheard complaint truly comes down to sheer laziness.

He has never seen her apartment before but it's exactly what he would have imagined. Neat, tidy but lived in. The colour scheme reflects her perfectly; greens, blues and oranges surrounded by patterns from her homeland. It's warm and relaxed, the complete opposite of her work environment, at least from what he can see in the hallway of the long apartment.

She dumps the her rucksack by the door and pays it no more attention. "There's beer in the fridge if you want," she points into the room on her right as she travels through the hallway into the sitting area at the and slumps sadly onto the couch with a sigh.

He takes her up on the offer and her kitchen is immaculate. It's clean, spotless actually, and when he opens the fridge he can see why. There isn't a spot of food on the cooled shelves, only six mix matched beer bottles and the odd piece of questionable fruit.

He picks out two that are obviously twist caps to avoid having to rummage for a bottle opener and twists his open, drinking heartily and taking a moment to lean on the dark marbled countertops. Her walls are white, risky for a kitchen, and the skirting of the room is a beautiful turquoise. It's criminal to have a kitchen like this and no time to actually cook in it, especially with that massive, heavy duty, stunning stainless steel stove.

Another one of her sighs echoes from the living room and he slumps through, his exhaustion obvious, and collapses down on her couch next to her. Her head hidden in the crease of her elbow, leaning against her drawn in knees, she's slipped her shoes off and curled up into a small ball on the couch. She doesn't see when he offers the open beverage so he sets in with a clink, glass on glass, onto the coffee table.

"I've seen you after a bad day," he says, gulping loudly after a mouthful. "This must have been pretty bad."

She doesn't move, doesn't speak. There's no way to know if she's even listening, but he doesn't have to think to hard to know where the root of her sadness is stemming from, losing a patient is hard on everyone, especially when there are children involved.

"It wasn't your fault, Eva," he tells her sincerely. She still doesn't budge, but through the gaps in her curled up body erupts a sniffled cry.

Chris puts his bottle next to the one he picked for her and pulls on her elbow, leaving her very little choice but to collapse in his direction and accept his embrace. She finds herself settled against him, almost in his lap. Her cheek meets his t-shirt and it smells like the break room, most likely from the hours it spent sitting in his locker.

He drops a kiss into her hair, nothing more than a friendly peck and gathers her closer into him.

She begins to cry more freely, throwing all of her rules to the wind and sobs on her colleague, a fellow surgeon, her friend. Chris hushes her softly, beginning to rock her slightly back and forth to comfort her.

* * *

" _Call it, Zambrano," Proctor demanded dismally._

_Eva refused to stop compressing the young girl's chest, shook her head and grunted, "No." She was drenched in blood that seeped from Rebecca's wounds but she couldn't let her go yet, couldn't admit that there was nothing else to be done._

" _Eva," Proctor said softly, edging back towards the gurney. She still didn't let up, but when he reached over and gripped onto her hands and the flatline registered with her completely, she stared down at the lifeless girl and sucked in a tight breath._

_She stepped back, ripping herself away from it all._

" _Call it," he said again, watching her gulp down the emotion ready to erupt._

_Eva looked up at the clock, avoiding the eyes of all the other doctors and nurses in the room and mumbled the time of death to room, her breath barely audible as it shuddered. She could spend time hating Proctor, but she knew he had to make her do it. He cleaned himself up quickly and left to inform the family._

_Eva stayed out of sight, refused to leave the room in the state she was in, but there weren't enough walls in the world that could have drowned out the sound of the wailing mother when Proctor relayed the awful news._

* * *

"I can't get that sound out of my head," Eva sniffles against Chris's chest.

"What sound?"

"The sound a person makes when their entire world falls apart. It destroys me," she sighs. "The screaming, the disbelief…" She tries to sit up and away but collapses back to stay in his warmth for as long as he'll let her. "It's never easy," she tells him as if he doesn't already know. "But when we have to tell parents that we couldn't save their kids…" She begins to tear up after just beginning to calm down, whining from her throat, but he pulls her in closer again. "I can't get Mrs. Howard's screams for Rebecca out of my head."

"You did everything you could today," he reminds her.

She knows she did. Rebecca took the brunt of a collision, she came through their doors with external wounds that would take weeks, if not months, to heal, but the internal wounds and the damage that came with them were what solidified her unfair fate.

She sits up, tucks her knees under herself, turns to face him and sit by him closely.

"How do you do it?" She asks, noting his composure and wiping her cheeks with her fingers, coughing away the lump in her throat. "How do you go through a day like today and stay so," she references generally at his body and he chuckles, "normal."

"Easy," he tells her. "I have you."

"Me?" She asks with a baffled expression. She wasn't expecting that answer at all.

"Yes. You," Chris picks up the beers again and gives her the fullest one. "Eva, you are the most passionate doctor I know. Your skill is out of this world," he makes her blush.

"So is Proctor," she jokes, not intended to undermine his reasoning, but he feels the need to reassure her anyway.

"Proctor is a robot," he scoffs. "There are days that I worry that in the end I will have to choose between being good at my job and being a compassionate human being, and then I think of you and I don't feel that way anymore."

"Chris…" she murmurs, blossoming at his admiration.

"No, let me finish," he laughs softly. "We have, hands down, the most chaotic job on the planet and getting to work with you. Seeing you cry reminds me that it's okay to feel sad or disappointed, seeing you laugh… It grounds me. Your smile reminds me that sometimes there are calm moments."

He takes her hands and squeezes it sweetly, "You are the peace swirled into the chaos, Eva. You help us stay sane. We feels things differently, we let different things affect us, but if it weren't for you I wouldn't have a chance in hell of being this good at my job."

She smirks at his self complimentary comment. Typical Chris Deleo. But as usual, he has perked her up and made the screaming in her head subside and hide away for another evening.

Perhaps he is her peace amidst the chaos too, the only person who knows how to talk her down.

"Are you hungry?" She asks.

"Only if you're buying," he winks and stands, helping her to stand off the couch politely. "Or there's suspicious apple in your fridge if you'd rather split that?"

She giggles putting her coat on, ignoring his sass and opens the front door to her apartment. Together they leave their little bubble of peace and enter back into the chaos, but they have each other… what could go wrong?


	2. Big Block Letters

He's late again. No shocker there.

Every shift is the same. She changes, makes some of that bitter coffee that clogs her taste buds, and she either does rounds or hurries off to an incoming patient. And like clockwork, somewhere between her first and second sip of fuel, Chris jogs through the halls and into the break room, always stopping to catch his breath but never failing to smirk, wink or do  _something_  that will make her eyes roll before he mutters a sultry  _morning, ladies_  to them.

Serena will almost always laugh and make some humourous quip about his tardiness and today she goes all out. "You know, I don't think you've made it in on time ever since I got here. Unless Eva picks you up, anyway."

Eva snorts into her coffee mug, proud of their youngest colleague. She's fitting in famously and has proved on numerous occasions that she's an irreplaceable asset to their team - for her medical skills  _and_  the company.

"Chris isn't capable of being on time," Eva tilts her head teasingly. " _Punctual_  isn't in his vocabulary."

"Hey now," Chris struggles out, defending himself from their teasing warfare. He opens his locker with a clunk and drops his bike helmet inside. "That's hardly fair."

"Are we wrong?" Eva challenges, tossing her coffee cup in the recycling. Serena stands up from the table and crosses her arms, curiously awaiting whatever sassy retort Chris conjures this time.

As their eyes are set on him, seconds from losing their stare into a second collective eye roll, he defends himself. "I am more than capable of being on time."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Eva scoffs playfully.

She knows his mind is up to something when he flicks his locker closed and click his tongue loudly. "Do I smell a bet, Dr. Zambrano?" He asks, one eyebrow raised.

They always play these silly games, what's the harm in one more? "What did you have in mind?"

"If I manage to make it in on time for five shifts-"

"Seven shifts," she interrupts. He's not getting off easy with less than a week's worth.

He chortles but gives into her amendment, " _Seven_  shifts. If I manage that…" he takes his time thinking of the best reward, and it hits him out of nowhere. Man, he's good. It's  _genius._

The way he smirks is monumental, something she'd expect from Proctor when he's proved someone wrong. Chris shrugs his shoulders, like his condition is nothing and nonchalantly requests, "Then I get to see those big block letters you've been hiding."

Serena laughs unknowingly. "Eva's what?" She asks.

Chris turns his attention from Eva's wide-eyed death stare and says over her shoulder, "Big,  _block_ -"

"Are you being paged, Serena?" Eva asks her, craning her head around.

Serena's confused as she looks down at her pager, "What? No." She's holding her pager in her hand and it's silent, but she notices Eva's glare and it speaks volumes. "I mean, yeah. Duty calls. Saving lives," she calls back as she slips out of the break room bathed in amusement, chuckling away and no doubt running to tell anyone she can of their antics.

Eva scowls back to Chris, unsure whether to be impressed or ticked off by his confidence. But he's smug. Of course he is.

"What'll it be?" He asks with conviction.

Her immediate thought is to decline the bet, to put the whole thing to rest. But in the years they've known each other, he's been late more than anything else. Winning this bet should be a piece of cake.

"You'll never make it seven in a row," Eva claims, narrowing her eyes, clicking her tongue when she decides, asking, "What do I get?  _When_  you mess up."

"Oh, you wound me," he slaps his hands comically over his chest. "I will let you call dibs on whatever procedure you want for a month. No questions asked."

 _Child's play_ , she thinks.

"You're on," she agrees and he holds out his hand to make it official, shaking her hand giddily.

…...

Serena is all over this bet. It's her own little nugget of entertainment, a sitcom she can live within. Nobody has to be a genius to see how invested she is in it. Serena even waited by the main doors to meet Eva.

"Should we wait here and see?" Serena asks, far too excited for her own good

Looking at her watch, Eva scoffs, responding sarcastically, "And waste thirty minutes just to watch him be late again? I'd rather not."

Slightly disappointed, Serena reluctantly agrees and follows Eva inside, but grins after catching her looking back to the main entrance for a third time from the reception to the break room. "Are you worried?" Serena asks, giggling quietly, pushing open the doors to let them inside their break room.

Before Eva can defend herself, her eyes widen abruptly after she catches sight of the fresh coffee and pastries on the table.

"Morning, Peaches," Chris says from his locker, leaning back and winking at her.

Serena erupts with hearty laughter, muttering, "Oh, you're in trouble," while she leans over and picks up a pastry and taking a healthy bite.

Chris smirks at Eva, padding over and lifting up a particular coffee cup and showing her how it's branded with her name, exuding a confidence that is so entirely Chris.

"Cute," she bites facetiously, taking the cup, regardless of its intention to inflate his ego,l and skipping past him. "Hope this didn't eat into your beauty sleep too much."

…...

It's the last day of their bet and Eva is pleasantly surprised to see that Chris hasn't showed up with his stupid coffee and pastries again - a nice change from the last six shifts that he defied all odds and actually arrived on time. She glances at her watch - he has ten minutes to show or she wins.

She tosses her things in her locker, changes quickly, always keeping an eye through the door, her stomach clenching every time she spots a shadow heading her way, but it's never him, so she relaxes every time.

Come to think of it, she's the  _only_  one here right now, which is strange. She thought Serena would have been here at the crack of dawn to see the outcome. She pops some pens into the pocket of her scrubs, wraps her stethoscope around her neck and heads out to the main reception. She can't see any of her team, so when she catches Tuck running down the hallway, she shouts to ask if he's seen anyone.

"Chris and Serena are in Trauma One. Proctor could be anywhere" he calls back, not stopping or looking back to her.

Shit. Chris did make it in on time. She slumps all the way, knowing he would smugly tease her all day, but to her surprise and shock, Chris isn't laying on the gurney as a doctor, but as a patient.

"What the hell happened?" Eva asks, pulling gloves out of the box and slipping them onto her hands.

Chris is laying back with his leg outstretched, blood stained on his shin, dripping in some places, and Serena is towering over him stitching closed a deep wound.

Hissing when Serena tightens her stich, Chris croaks out, "I decided to become more acquainted with a fire hydrant this morning."

Eva peers over Serena's shoulder and takes a good look at his wound. It's deep, ragged. Not necessarily a trauma that they usually handle, but he's too valuable to lose to an Emergency Room for hours. Serena barely finishes another stitch and tightens again before Chris whines loudly.

"Let me," Eva offers, reaching for the equipment. Serena happily lets Eva take over, mumbling some sass about Chris being a  _big baby_  and leaving them alone. "Did you forget how to brake?"

"Ha. Ha." He scrunches his eyes closed when Eva starts carefully stitching, but at least she keeps darting her eyes up to his face to make sure he isn't in too much pain. "Car pulled out of an intersection, I swerved so he wouldn't hit me."

"Did they stop?" Eva asks, concentrating on stitching more now. She's faster that Serena, purely due to the countless times she's done it.

Chris scoffs and drops his head back, "They never do."

Eva frowns. She will easily admit that she was never as cautious as she should have been about cyclists on the road, but since meeting Chris, she is always on the lookout. He's lucky that he wasn't brought in with something more serious that this. She finishes up quickly, dabbing it clean and dressing his leg, wrapping a white bandage around his calf.

"Thanks," he mumbles. "What a way to start the morning, huh?"

She hums in agreement, standing up from the stool she was sitting on. "I hate to ruin your day any more…" she says quietly, pulling off her gloves and disposing of them in the bin by the door. "But you're late."

He narrows his brow at her and tilts his head inquisitively, so she clarifies, "For work. You're late for work."

"No." He sits up straight, snapping his head towards the clock above the door. He's ten minutes late. "That's not fair," he argues. She can't help but laugh when he references down to his leg and childishly whines, "I'm injured."

She shrugs, teasing, "You said you'd be on time for seven shifts in a row. You made it in for six."

"Come on," he bats his eyes, hoping to play off her kindness. She's smiling madly at his frustration, a performance of chuckles just waiting in her belly. Still he tries to reason, "I would have made it on time if it weren't for that absolute douchebag of a driver with his stupid fu-"

"Alright," she laughs brightly, putting her hand up showing that she gets his point. "Alright."

Her last  _alright_  gives a hint of surrender, so he asks,"You mean I win?" He studies her intently when she exhales deeply and nods. If he weren't almost rundown, he would have been sitting at that table with that stupid grin that drives her nuts most of the time. "I still get dibs on surgery though."

"Done," he agrees quickly, chewing on his bottom lip before asking. "So I get to see it?"

Ugh, it took him a whole three seconds to bring it up. She sighs lightly and makes her way to close the blinds, shielding them from prying eyes - though the looks they'll get when they leave are going to be something else. When she walks back, she looks at her sternly, "You get to look for a second. That's it."

"Whatever you say," he raises his hand, accepting her terms and conditions.

She turns away from him and takes a deep breath. It's not that she's nervous or embarrassed, not even close to either of those emotions, but she can't pinpoint exactly what it is she's feeling.

There's just something about Chris, their weird relationship - the constant  _will they_ or  _won't they_. Maybe it's because she doesn't know the answer to that anymore than the gossiping nurses that pass them everyday.

She reaches her arms up behind her, folding down the hem of her scrubs just far enough to expose the inked skin. It rests just to the right of the base of her spine, not a part of the body hasn't seen before in his line of work, but certainly new territory for them.

"Oh, you liar," he whispers, reaching carefully to brush his fingertip just over the top of the soft skin of her lower back.

Swallowing the lump in her throat away, she twists her neck as far as she can to look back. "What?" She asks.

"Those aren't big block letters at all," he chuckles. He's leaned in closer to have a really good look at it, she can feel his exhaled breath on her skin, enough to raise goosebumps.

She whispers a chuckle because he's right. She may have indulged a little in the moment when she confessed the nature of her tattoo. She opted for the cursive lettering of her mother's name to be etched onto her skin for life. It's delicate, much like the earliest memories Eva has of her mother - the way she used to stroke Eva's hair at bedtime, her soft singing when she worked her way around the kitchen, her skin.

"It's beautiful," Chris tells her, leaning away and sitting up straight on the gurney.

"Thanks," she whispers, readjusting her scrubs back to where they rest comfortably.

They share a beat of silence after she turns to look at him, clears her throat, even considers crossing her arms, but her pager beeps, drawing their attention and suddenly everything is back to its fast pace. Duty calls.

"Are you going to be alright?" She checks, nodding down to his bandaged leg.

He stands up, gages whether he can handle any weight on the injury and it's essentially painless. "As usual, you have the healing touch. I just need to change."

Eva smiles faintly, nodding and together they walk into the much busier hallway. She's heading one way, he needs to go the other, so they silently part.

Then in front of the entire nursing staff, he calls over, "You know what would go great with it?"

She stops and turns back to him, smiling a questioning look and shrugging her shoulders, "What?"

"My name," he shouts, everyone around them pretending not to listen and failing. "In big block letters."


	3. We Didn't Start The Fire

They say that being a trauma surgeon means you learn how to function on the tiniest amount of sleep. She's even had fellow surgeons confess to not even missing the extra hours in their own bed, that they are so committed to their work that sleep falls to the bottom of their priority list.

Screw that.

Eva groans heavily when the loud vibrations begin on her bedside table. She twists in her comforter and sighs deeply into her pillow when she hears the catchy intro of  _We Didn't Start the Fire_  belt out from the speaker. Unfortunately, not even Billy Joel's coarse, stellar voice could make this any less of a rude awakening.

Without looking, she reaches her arm towards the side table and feels around for her cell, following the strength of the recurring vibrations through the wood. Twisting in the warmth she's created, she lays on her front when the receiver reaches her ear.

"Chris?" she mumbles sleepily, pushing up and curving her chest to rest on her elbows. "What's wrong?"

"Did I wake you, Peaches?" He chuckles down the phone. Maybe if she was more awake, she'd have chuckled with him but the exhaustion wins this round and she groans heavily again, mirroring the one when she first woke. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Billy Joel," she croaks sleepily as she drags her body up in the bed. He quips something about how changing his ringtone  _worked a charm_. Pulling the phone from her ear, she blinks towards the bright light a notices the time. "Please tell me you have a good reason for calling me at 4am."

She's joking, her little laugh at the end was intended to express that, but he doesn't reply. Instead the wind batters against his microphone and the familiar sound of sirens sound amidst it all. "Chris?"

"I uh… I couldn't sleep," he confesses shyly. "I thought we could have some coffee."

Eva doesn't hesitate pulling her comforter away and swinging to sit upright with her feet off the side of the bed. She clicks on the screen of her cell to activate speaker phone and tosses it on the bed. She reaches to her side chair for the first thing that looks warm enough to accompany the sweat pants she's already wearing. She ends up climbing inside a navy oversized hoodie - something an old boyfriend left behind, but damn it's comfy.

"Do you need me to pick you up?" She asks, rummaging to the corner of her closet for those Ugg boots her father gave her one birthday. They're wedged behind that bag for Goodwill that she brought home with the vow to take it tomorrow, though that was at least a hundred yesterdays ago.

"Not exactly," he says smiling, the smirk loud - she can hear it all the way from the tiny microphone on her bed.

"What do you mean?" She shakes her head silently, grinning at his antics, and bending over, reaching down to help her ankles passed the resistance in each boot. Her spine straightens reflexively at the sound of her buzzer bouncing on the walls of her entryway, down the hallway and vibrating into her bedroom.

Of course he's outside. She picks up her phone to put it back to her ear, "Tell me you're kidding." It's not out of the question where Chris is concerned, he is always up to something.

"Come meet me downstairs. It'd be a crime to let a gorgeous night like this go to waste."

She sighs happily, "You're insane."

"You love me," he quips back in return.

As silently as she can, she grips onto her keys to keep them from jingling with every step passed her neighbour's front steps down the the front door. He looks sad but he perks up when she silently greets him. He's right, it is a nice night. It's cool and breezy but not enough to merit the boyfriend hoodie.

"You cycled here?" She points to his bike propped up next to her car. It's dark and on a busy Saturday night with roads filled with buzzed drivers, he's crazy.

"It wasn't all bad," he shrugs. He picks up the throwaway coffee cups from the hood of her car and stretches one out to her. "You should have seen me trying to balance with these things, though."

"I can imagine," she laughs. The coffee is still quite hot, he couldn't have picked them up too long ago. She sits down on the step to her apartment building and he follows to join her, sipping on their drinks.

They enjoy silence together. It's what they're used to in all honesty. After long shifts, they'll go to the bar and things will start off busy, but as soon as everyone scatters like they always do, they sit in each other's company comfortably. They'll sip on their drinks and look out across the water and relax.

But something's not right tonight. He's hurting. And she knows why.

"This is about Rick, isn't it?" She prods, fidgeting with her coffee cup.

He handled it far too well last week. Chris was calm, even collected, when she explained Rick's diagnosis; even if they had the worst of relationships, his nonchalance should have been a warning sign that Chris didn't actually soak it in entirely.

Chris frowns at the mention of his brother's name, and he tries to fool her with a cough to mask it. He shakes his head, "Would you believe me if I said I just missed your voice, Peaches?"

"Not a chance," she laughs. "Why do you deflect like that?"

He sighs and turns his coffee cup into the palm of his hand a couple of times. "He could have come to me. He could have told  _me_ , Eva. I wish he knew that."

"He knows," she comforts him. "And I told him over and over to let me bring you in, but… but he's just as stubborn as you." Chris breathes heavily out his nose, nodding sadly in agreement. Chris is more like Rick than he's willing to admit.

"Thank you," he says abruptly. She wasn't expecting it - it's an unnecessary gesture. She did her job as a doctor, something any decent professional would have done. "I never said it last week and I should have. You didn't have to help him, you could have sent him to a specialist.  _And_  you put up with him, that in itself deserves praise."

Reminded of Rick's interesting tactics to get her to help, she almost blushes, but quickly reverts the situation back to what has brought Chris all the way to her apartment like this. "Have you called him?" She asks.

"Now  _that_ ," he sighs, "That is why I can't sleep. " The cogs in his head begin to turn like the have most of the night, the same worries plaguing, a plethora of words climbing up the back of his throat but refusing to be released. He mutters a colourful expletive at his own mind games and sighs, "How did I let it get to where I lose sleep at the very thought of calling him?"

She reaches over to hold his hand, "You love him. And you're scared. It's normal to hesitate."

She thinks it's harmless, just a friendly gesture, paying no attention to how his eyes latch to her warmth entwined with his fingers. She's acted so nonchalantly, still staring out into the parking lot. So while his stomach flutters, he simply squeezes her hold, muttering another thank you before he gulps away the bitter end of his coffee.

"We didn't start the fire…" she sings softly, smirking a wide smile in his direction. His eyes widen, surprised that she is singing  _willingly_  for him and he's already planning how he will tease her for it later. it makes her giggle, causing her to fails as she tries to finish the next line, "It was always burning-"

Chris' chest explodes with a short bout of laughter, "I love you, you know that?"

Her giggles subside and her smirk softens into an appreciative smile, "You're not too bad yourself." Then she yawns loudly and unexpectedly - coffee after midnight usually does nothing to her.

"You're tired," he notes after her yawn. He stands and takes her empty cup, helping her up swiftly before tossing the empty polystyrene into the trash can and heads back to his bike, retreating to allow her the chance to enjoy the rarity of a night in her own bed.

"Hey," she calls over to him, opening the lock on her door. "You can come up if you want." He looks confused, tilting his head at the offer. "I'd end up picking you up tomorrow anyway. You can stay."

" _Really?_ " He teases.

"On my  _couch_ , hot shot," she tosses back.


	4. Heart Break

Hate To See Your Heart Break

_For all the things that you're alive to feel_   
_Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal_

There isn't enough scalding water in the world to wash away the gruesome images from her day, the heinous nerves that bubbled monstrously in her gut. Even Macy Gray blasting and echoing through the shower room can't distract her mind from it all. Her forehead has been leaning on the cool tiles since she first stepped into the steaming stream. Her mind wants to forget it all, but her heart... that vexatious mound of pulsing muscle responsible for every flash of heartache, it won't let her forget the moment she held her breath for what felt like hours.

A day in the field was rare for trauma surgeons. Usually, the patient ends up in their pristine ORs with their immaculate tools… but not today. Instead, her day was chaotic, engulfed in a sooty atmosphere as downtown Miami worked diligently to keep everyone safe. Firefighters, police officers, paramedics, every emergency service imaginable working in tandem around the loud scream of sirens and frightened voices.

The fire roared through the entirety of an office building. The type of office didn't matter, what mattered were the injured employees riddled all around, shocked and confused.

Their team weren't called in until the building collapsed in on itself. The number of broken bones and cases of internal bleeding skyrocketed and the chances of survival were slim enough without patients having to be transported through the backed up streets.

They wasted no time upon their arrival. Proctor and Serena teamed up wordlessly, seeing to a number of head injuries. Chris fled to assist with a broken femur and Eva found herself tending to a woman with several broken ribs and a pierced lung. Arguably a quick fix in the comfort of her operating room, but in the smoke-filled streets of downtown Miami, not so much.

Quickly and efficiently, they patched up everyone in need of immediate attention as much as they could, stabilised serious wounds so their patients would survive the journey to nearby hospitals. Then as things appeared to be winding down calmly, the team were preparing to make their way back to the hospital when a fireman called out from behind them; there was a gentleman inside trapped beneath the debris… and that's when things went south.

Eva shakes away the recollection, presses her head even more firmly against the wall of the shower and switches off the firm stream of water. She doesn't move right away, takes a moment to listen to her breathing. She inhales and exhales heavily six or seven times, then pushes off the wall to stand straight, wrapping herself in the fluffy white towel that she brought from home and dresses relatively quickly into loose sweatpants and a white tank top. She doesn't bother to dry her hair, leaves the short tendrils soaked and dripping as she makes her way back to the darkened break room to pick up her keys.

"I thought you might still be here." Chris is sitting at the table, an almost empty mug in front of him. He's been here a while.

"I needed to shower," she said, clearing her throat, making a bee-line to her locker, barely sparing him a single look. He doesn't speak a word whilst she rifles aimlessly through her possessions. She doesn't need to look at her phone, doesn't want one of the tic tacs that she had forgotten were even in there, she just wants him to stand up and leave. She can't look at him, not yet.

"Our shift ended three hours ago."

Irritated, she slams her locker closed swiftly and bites out a "you don't think I know that?"

When she swivels around on the balls of her feet to face him, he's standing with his hands raised defensively, then there's that silence that she usually enjoys with him. Right now, however, that silence sounds like a high-pitched scream that demands to be heard.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he assures softly, guilt-laced in his tone.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and away from him for a moment. "You didn't scare me," she says unconvincingly.

Truth be told, she was terrified when Chris ran off to assist the firemen inside with a man trapped under the rubble. He waltzed into that burning building without a single moment of hesitation and her heart stopped as she called out to him, looked back at her team to see their equally startled faces, but what startled her most is how quickly her subconscious urged her to go after him. Her legs started to run in the same direction, though she never made it far.

Proctor's arms gripped around her middle like a vice grip to keep her in place, assuring her that Chris would  _be fine_ , that he'd  _have it under control_ , but Proctor couldn't have been less convincing even if he'd tried. What Chris did was undeniably brave and everything she would expect him to do, but God, reality smacked her in the gut when she realised that he could actually get hurt.

Then she heard people around her muttering that the building was going to collapse again, the south walls were so unstable that there was only a matter of seconds before they crumbled along with the rest. She, and the rest of the team, were ushered back, told to hurry and get out of the way. Eva's heart battered inside her chest, bruising every inch of her rib cage, as her eyes were glued to the small opening of the building that Chris entered, but he still wasn't coming out.

"Okay," she admits softly, a slim lining of tears welling up in her eyes. "You scared me." He frowns tightly, begins to apologise, but she won't let him do that. "Don't apologise for saving a life. Please."

Chris made it out with mere seconds to spare, carrying most of his patient's weight as they scurried to make it to safety. When Eva caught a glimpse of his face, the breath she'd held hostage in her own lungs was finally free, it escaped much like the soft sob that erupted from the back of her throat as she bent towards the ground, her worry assuaged.

"I won't," he said truthfully. "But I  _am_  sorry for making any of you worry. Proctor has already ripped my ass a new one…"

Eva laughed softly. "Is he the one making you go around and apologise?" Chris shakes his head chuckling, quipping that it wouldn't surprise him if Proctor actually did make him do that. They share their soft bout of humour, even if it's short-lived. "My personal feelings aside, I am really proud of you for what you did today."

"Thank you," he says, letting his shoulders slump.

Eva closes the space between them and steps into his arms tentatively, her arms reaching up and looping around his neck. Chris reciprocates fully, linking his wrists together at the base of her spine.

"But if you ever do that again," she mumbles into his shoulder, "I'll kill you myself."

He snorts before dropping a chaste, firm lipped kiss to her damp hairline and they chuckle softly together. "Whatever you say, Peaches."


	5. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead.

By the end of the encore, Chris and Eva are pleasantly buzzed. Of course, it was Chris's brilliant idea to start the rounds of drinks. One round led to four more and before she knew it they are both all loose limbs and playful giggling as they stumbled outside the venue.

Getting a cab is going to be a bitch - they'll no doubt be fighting their way through drunk twenty-somethings for the first ones available - so she suggests that she stays with him tonight; trying to find one ride will be tough enough, let alone two.

"Only if you have beer," he chuckles.

"Haven't you had enough?" Her eyebrow arches and she twists her neck around so he can see her less than amused smirk, all in good fun, of course.

He laughs over her call for a taxi and shit, she got one. He's impressed, even more so when it's not whisked away by some other duo looking to get home. Instead, she reaches back to grip on his hand, guides him through the masses and they stumble into the backseat, Eva giving her address, calmly buckling her seatbelt and relaxing into the cool leather.

A concert after a long shift at work probably wasn't her wisest move, but she had so much fun that she can't bring herself to give it much thought past the ache in her shoulders and the heaviness of her eyelids.

For the most part, they ride in silence, scrolling through their phones, catching up on the real world that they'd missed together.

"Anything exciting?" Chris asks from his slumped lean against the car door. When she looks up from the bright light of her screen, she realises he's been watching her ignore him.

She blushes and she has no idea why - damn beer - but she immediately locks her phone and apologises, twisting a bit to face him more. He waves his hand at her  _sorry_ , tells her, "it's alright. Won't lie… it's quite nice to see you so relaxed."

She's the most relaxed she's been in weeks. First with the promotion riding on her shoulders, then her  _maybe_  encounter with Proctor, the endless patients in and out every day. Yeah, she's a ball of stress most the time but tonight she was able to let it all go, throw caution to the wind and just… dance.

Eva's trying to find the best thing to say when he swoops in again. "You deserved this night off."

Smiling softly, she replies, "thank you. I needed it."

And it's with excellent timing. The cab stops just outside her building, calls the charge over his shoulder a little rudely, but it's a late night in Miami so she'll let him off.

Chris pays the driver, ignoring completely that she had cash in her hand to give him. When she can't give it to the driver, she offers it to Chris and he declines. She tries again, insisting, but again he shakes his head, adds, "scoot. Out you go," as he leans over her to open the door.

When she stands up, her legs immediately feel like jelly. Firm enough to stay standing upright, but wobbly enough to have her bend over and clutching over her kneecaps with a nervous laugh through her nose.

Chris rubs along her back. "What's wrong?"

"I think…" she murmurs slowly, almost as slow as she stands up straight again, "I probably should have skipped that last beer."

She laughs again, so does he, an eyebrow raised devilishly when he asks, "did I get Dr. Zambrano a little tipsy tonight?"

Eva rolls her eyes, he's far too happy with himself. "Let's get inside."

She's siphoning through her bag for the keys as she carefully climbs the stairs to her front door. Arguably, she probably could have found them in seconds if she stopped moving and had a good search, but instead she tries to do both. With a hand in her bag and shaky legs climbing, she reaches and reaches until her ears spark up at that familiar clink of metal.

"Got them," she whispers to herself, though Chris must hear because he huffs an amused breath through his nose.

As they get to the door, Eva's fingers are toying with the keys as she tries to find the right one - her keychain's a mess. Car keys, house keys, locker keys, storage keys, an embarrassing number of keyrings… and of course, they all feel identical in the darkness of her hallway.

She's still fumbling away at the metal when her shoes reach the doormat and in a moment of defeat, Eva presses her forehead against the front door and begins to chuckle. Her keys are a mess, she could have been trying to unlock her door with a keychain for all she knew.

"I need a minute," she tells him, and he laughs pleasantly behind her, puffs of air tickling against the back of her neck.

"Let me help," he offers, then follows through without her acceptance. His arms loop around her middle and he reaches the keys. They jingle as he feels around for what he thinks could be a door key and attempts to unlock.

"Nope," she giggles when it isn't the right key. "Probably my storage locker."

"Alright, Zambrano, let's try again." He peers down in front of her this time, letting his chin fit perfectly against the crook of her neck. She looks down too while their fingers tangle together amongst the mass of metal. "This one?" He asks, but she shakes her head. "This?"

That has to be it, so she nods her head and guides his hand to the keyhole. It slips inside and turns easily. Eva turns the handle and pushes the door wide open, but there's a moment. Neither of them move, Chris's arms wrapped tightly around her, his face by her shoulder, then he whispers, "third time's the charm, huh?"

She snorts easily, flushes away how much she wants to stay inside his wonderful arms and playfully shoves him away to step inside.

His warmth is missed as they make their way inside, a straight shot to the kitchen where she has beers chilling. Her warm and flushed face meets the chill of the refrigerator while she reaches inside for two bottles, and she lingers slightly, enjoying the comforting relief of the cold and scolds herself for letting her mind getting too wrapped up in Chris. Sure, he's attractive, he clearly cares about her. They are  _friends._  Best friends at that.

God. She has her head stuck in the fridge and she convinces herself of all the reasons she can muster to not plant a kiss on him right now.

It's the booze. It has to be the booze. And perhaps how lovely he is, how smart, how -  _stop it, Eva._

"Eva?" He asks, reaching for the bend in her elbow. "You alright?"

She snaps out of it immediately, pulls away from the fridge with the drinks she went in for, and she nods quickly, smiling a somewhat forced smile, "The cold felt nice."

Not a complete lie, but hardly the whole truth. Truth be told, she probably shouldn't have invited him back to her apartment.

Chris takes the drink though, thanks her politely and they slouch against the counter side by side with open beers, sipping every so often, enjoying each other's silence until Chris thanks her for the evening. "You could have taken our little Serena tonight."

She shrugs as if it's nothing. "I was in the mood for your company."

 _Ah! Why did she say that?_  It may be true, she did think she'd have a bit more fun with him, but now she's opened up the channel for his sly grins and sassy statements and -

"Were you now?" He asks smugly, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

Eva rolls her eyes, huffs a few laughs through her nose. Just as she expected.

"Don't let it go to your head." She shies from his stare and glances at the floor, barely noticing that he's edging closer. It's only when he steps forward, twisting towards her and stepping painfully close that she dares to dart her eyes up again.

His eyes are hungry, like he's been possessed by a desire that just won't back down. "I had a lot of fun tonight," he says softly. "You really  _can_ loosen up when you get out of those scrubs. I had to see it for myself."

She laughs and bites her lip a little, but that could be to alleviate the nervousness blooming in her gut at their closeness and surprisingly it works. Her nerves float away easily, almost like they only showed up because she felt like they had to at the time.

The second they disappear, she locks onto his stare and  _fuck_ , they're screwed.

"You look amazing tonight, by the way."

Oh yeah, she's absolutely screwed. Her stomach is fluttering, she's sure his is too. Their eyes are awash with…  _ugh_ , she's never wanted to kiss him more.

But she can't.  _They_  can't.

She isn't sure how they got here; hopelessly attracted to each other, at complete ease with one another. She's pressed against her counter, the edge pushing against her back and he's towering above her shortened height.

Their breathing has all but stopped and Eva dares to open her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She can't form a word, not a single sound.

His eyes are trained on her in absolute concentration, contemplation there too. "Eva..." his voice comes in a whisper, a gentle and desperate mutter.

Without thinking, she brushes her hands against his sides, settling them flat against his lower rib cage, pulling him a little closer until her chest is almost flat against his. Her neck is stretched high and they're staring again.

Then comes the anticipation.

They both know what they want, want to scream it from the rooftops, but there're so many loops and sharp turns ahead. Something clicks in Eva's mind though, switches her opinion on the entire issue.

All the feelings in her head rearrange and suddenly she wants to take the risk.

The feelings are written in the creases of her face and Chris seizes the opportunity. His fingers skirt up her bare arms until he can cup her cheeks gently. The anticipation is trembling in her lips as he lowers and captures them through her whimpered gasp.

Eva's arms climb over his chest and manoeuvre through the minimal space between them to loop and up around his neck. As they remain unimaginably close, Chris moans into Eva's welcoming mouth as their tongues clash and every touch of worry floats away, no match for the fluttering in their chests and the pounding of their hearts.

Chris lifts her the short distance from the the floor until she sits on the counter, but they don't dare let their lips part. She opens her legs so he can step closer between them.

Her hand is in his hair, gripping and pulling lightly, as they jump over this concrete fence together, as they give into that kernel of truth that bubbles in their bellies.

As their kiss slows, the lust calms and their reality becomes an anchor on their minds. When they part, their breaths are soft and shallow, their noses dangerously close.

"Sorry," he apologises, noting the way her eyelids have dropped in what he assumes regret.

"It's okay," she whispers back, dropping her hands away, but she stays sitting in the counter with him situated between her thighs. He frowns, scalding himself for not holding back. "Really," she promises with the tiniest hint of a smile, and she shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. "Think how much you'll win in bet money."

He snorts lightly, squeezing her shoulders gently. But then their eyes catch and they are lost in their conflict again. What they had before was perfect - more than perfect - but they are both clawing for more.

Eva sits up poker straight so they're eye-to-eye, then leans forward until their noses touch and her lips ghost against his again.

"We can't," Chris says sadly, against his instinct.

Eva's bottom lip drags along his top lip and she sighs into his logic, agreeing, "I know..." and she sits back again, licking the lips that are desperate for him again. Clearing her throat, she mutters, "we have too much to lose."

Their friendship would be forever changed - to be honest it probably already is - but they remain at a crossroads and they've quite the decision to make.

Do they risk it all and love like fools or do they continue to shove these feelings aside?

Maybe it's the continuous flow of alcohol-tainted blood pumping around her body, but Eva goes beyond her logical approaches and she dives in - head second, heart first.

She fists Chris's shirt and pulls him in again, her lips attached to his and her legs looped around the back his thighs. Their kiss tastes like the change that is happening to their friendship; it's turning to clay, begging to be sculpted into something new.

Kissing becomes devouring, soft touches becomes heated roaming. Eva reaches for the top of her cream dress and pulls it down to expose as much of her chest as she can. Chris's open mouth latches just above her collarbone and he begins to explore, lips dragging hotly against her tanned skin, until he can feel the hard beating of her heart.

Her head drops back with a groan, softly thudding against the cupboard mounted in the wall. "Shit," she sighs, just as he nips and lips along the soft skin of her breasts. Her chest pushes against his face and he pulls her ass to the edge of the counter, keeping her in place with firm hands on her bare legs. He braces her weight and lifts her high, capturing her lips again with his own.

Lifting her, he carries her away from the kitchen, through the hallway, their tongues caressing and fighting for the upper hand.

"Last door on the right," she mutters into their shallow breathing. Then her back is pressed flush against the cool pine of her bedroom door. Her stomach beginning to feel tighter and tighter, heat pooling deep in her lowest section of her belly.

Their movements cease and Eva notices that Chris has taken the time to pull back and memorise her face in an entirely new light. His eyes are intriguingly darker than usual, his teeth scraping along his bottom lip, all while his palms squeeze at her sides.

Smirking, Eva trusts him completely to hold her weight and reaches for the door handle, giving it a quick turn to open and latches back around his neck as they stumble into her bedroom.

It surprises him that her sheets aren't tucked in neatly like he always imagined they would be, but neither of them care at this point. He drops Eva carefully onto the mattress and she bounces ever so slightly. Chris crawls slowly up her body, his wet lips catching on any skin they can along the way; up her calves, catching on her knees, her inner thigh.

Her fingers thread through his short hair as his mouth - lips, tongue, you name it - dances up her body. His lips move to her chin, then her jaw before catching her in a soft and slow kiss. She smiles into it, bringing her hands down until they are fisting into his white t-shirt again and pulling it off. He breaks away for a second to toss his shirt aside, not a care in the world as to where it lands. Standing high on his knees, his eyes fall to her body again and his palms glide up either leg slowly. Up and up until his fingertips barely reach the hem of her dress and he dares to tickle just underneath.

Eva purrs delightedly, her heart now having completely taken over from her head and sits up quickly, adjusting her body any way she needs to peel her dress away, leaving her only in lace before him.

Then he's staring. Staring at her body like he's never seen anything like it before. But she understands.

As doctors, they adore the human body; they fight day in and day out to keep them functioning. Though very rarely do they just get to admire the curves of a waist or sun-kissed skin.

That's what he's doing. He's worshipping the very vessel that inspired his career and he can't get enough. His fingers trace along her abdomen, through the crevice of her breasts, up to cup her cheek tenderly, but she turns her face away shyly with a firm bite to her bottom lip.

"Hey," he gently turns her head back to face him and with a sense of sincerity she barely recognises. He kisses her lips fully, murmuring against them, "you're gorgeous."

 _Always the charmer_ , she thinks, and smiles against his kiss before reaching down between them for the buckle on his jeans.

He steps off the bed to drop his jeans to the floor, the metal of this buckle colliding loudly with the wood on the floor. Still clad in his boxers, despite how tight they are around his hardening erection, he kneels back onto the softness of Eva's mattress and slowly feels down the smoothness of her thighs, her calves, until he's able to hold onto her ankles to give her a gentle tug until she's just resting on the edge of the bed. She props up on her elbows and watches with dark, heavy lidded eyes as he lowers to his knees and brushes his fingertips across the insides of her thighs.

His fingers loop around the simple black lace and their eyes lock for a moment, another bout of silent questioning before going beyond a point they can come back from. Her teeth catch her bottom lip tightly, she nods, arching slightly to make sliding the garment off easier for him.

She watches as her panties are tossed to some corner of the bedroom haphazardly, and she stifles her laugh as he begins to crawl up her body, daring to kiss up her abdomen, past her belly button, to the ticklish skin by her breasts.

"Off please," he asks kindly, biting at the wire in her bra.

She tucks her arms around her back, undoing the clasp so it's loose enough for him to pull down her arms. It joins her panties on the floor, tossed aside, as he breathes against her skin, hot breath grazing over her pebbled nipple before he devours it entirely.

Warmth spreads over her entire body, soft whimpered moans at his movements getting caught in her throat, some slipping through and blessing his ears.

He shifts and starts to move back down her front, scratching his teeth lightly over her sternum. She hisses, he hasn't hurt her, not in the slightest, but shit, that shouldn't feel as good as it did.

He's smirking against her skin, his lips dragging down and down and down and  _oh god._  It tumbles from her lips without warning, just as he halts and kisses at her hips, down the curve of her thigh.

Her heart is pounding so hard, rattling against her rib cage, so she clutches over her chest, tries to manage her breathing. But then he has to go ahead and dart his lips over the other side of her body, teasing at every inch from the dip in her waist to the inside of her thigh.

Her breathing hasn't a chance. Eva's skin is tingling from head to toe, and she's desperate for more.

His name falls from her lips, a drawn out, frustrated  _Chris_  as his small nips and bites on sensitive skin becomes all too much and entirely not enough. He decides he's teased her enough, chuckling a burst of hot breath before serving one long swipe of his tongue along her entire length, lingering and kissing over her clit, tugging softly with his lips.

Her chest tightens, she arches slightly. "F-Fuck!" and she reaches down to thread her fingers through his hair.

"Keep going," she begs breathlessly, starving to feel his tongue against her again, on her clit, skirting around her entrance. And he does just that. She throws her head back, whining his name, scratching at his scalp.

She's almost embarrassed at how close she is already, but it's his own fault. He shouldn't have wound her up so tightly, he shouldn't be so good at unravelling her entirely, he shouldn't - oh god, she's so fucking close.

She tells him, tries to stifle her yelped moans into the arm she throws against her face.

He's built her up so high and suddenly she's falling again, cushioned in the safety net of pleasure and Chris. As lightning courses through every vein in her body, he climbs up the mattress, kissing her neck as she inhales and exhales deeply.

And for whatever reason, she starts laughing. Covers her eyes, embarrassed almost, but he won't allow it. He moves her hand away and is smiling the sweetest smile, kisses her lips gently and she tastes herself on his tongue as he deepens their kiss with fervour.

Hazy and light headed, Eva needs more and with a strength he doesn't know she has, she manages to flip them around so that she's straddling over his excruciatingly hard erection, begging to be freed of the confines they remain in. She distracts him slightly with hot, open mouthed kisses while she links her fingers with his and holds them on either side of his head, pushing them down firmly into the mattress.

Her slick centre meets the feeling of cotton as she grinds along his length, pulling a deep groan from the pits of his lungs. He begins to pry his hands away from her laced fingers, freeing them to reach down and push his boxers away.

Their tongues battle through moans, groans and the occasional breathy cry as Eva continues to grind against his now bare cock, her slickness coating him.

She's already feeling the coiling in her stomach, the beginnings of what can easily wind up to a beautiful explosion and suddenly she's done with the teasing.

She scuffles up the bed rather hastily, reaching into the drawer there by the pillow and grabs the familiar foil wrapped square. Wasting no time, she tears it open and takes the liberty of rolling the latex down and around his cock. His head rolls back and he chuckles through a sly smile, a laugh at his own expense for finding such a mundane task as erotic as he did.

Eva's eyes are hungry when he meets them, but he still feels like she's hesitant. He sits up straight with his legs outstretched and pulls her to straddle around his thighs, perching up only slightly higher above him.

"You sure?" He asks for a final time, looking up and running his nose along the column of her throat. He dots a sweet kiss under her chin and murmurs, "everything else we can come back from. This..."

"I'm sure," she promises with the airiest of voices. "I'm more than sure. I need you." She slams a kiss to his mouth, begs him with hot kisses, and takes the lead, even if it's entirely uncharacteristic of her.

Eva slips her hand between the slickness of their torsos, weaselling until she can grip him gently and he gasps lightly against the crook of her neck while she guides him until he slips home. He fills her beautifully, a snug stretch that urges her head back and forcing a groaned, " _God_ ," to slip from her throat.

She savours the blissful moment of stillness between them, as her body stretches and adjusts to the newness of him. Then she needs him desperately, looping her arms around her own back to search for his hands, reaching for them hastily, bringing them around until she can push him back down to her mattress, their linked hands pinned down on either side of his head again when she meets him for another open mouthed kiss against his eager lips.

She grinds against him, moaning softly from the back of her throat, into his mouth, when her clit rubs against him over and over, that combined with how he fills her sends electricity buzzing to the tips of her toes, her fingertips, even her nose.

She doesn't fight him when he pries his fingers from where she was holding them, especially when he releases himself to tangle himself in her hair, bringing her bare chest flush against his. When their lips part, he immediately latches to her neck, kissing and nipping and sucking in all the spots that make her brain fuzzy and light.

Her name hitches in his throat when she pushes up against his chest, using his heavy breathing rib cage for leverage, finding a rhythm that has them both moaning, groaning, gasping and  _oh God,_ he feels amazing.

"Chris, I…" she tries to string together her now incoherent thoughts. "You… oh, f- _fuck._ " She feels his arms tighten around her back and he twists and fumbles until she's underneath him, waiting for him to keep moving inside her, to keep that pool of heat deep in her belly growing more dense with every thrust, every kiss.

She bring her legs high to cradle around his back, pulling on him to move until he does. He dives back inside her heat easily. "You feel incredible," he breathes hotly against the rim of her ear and it shoots straight to her core. "Better than I ever I thought."

She cries out for him, claws around and up her back, nails biting as he brings her up and up and up and, "fuck, I'm close…  _Chris…_ " He switches up his angle, shifts down until his teeth are scraping along the column of her neck, soothing every nip and tug with a light lick of his tongue.

Driving her wild is an understatement. Somehow, someway, he knows what she needs. Without ever once speaking of it, he knows what she likes. The little nibbles on her skin, the hands in her hair. He's doing everything right.  _So_  right.

It's no wonder that the coil on tension in her belly is ready to spring open and ricochet across every part of her body.

"Right there," she begs, locks her ankles around his back and scratches into his scalp. "Oh my…  _right_  there. Don't stop."

"I'm right behind you," he breathes hotly against her cheek, then latches onto her lips with tongue-filled worships, swallowing Eva's throaty moans, giving her his in returns. Then she's tightening around him, tightening and allowing him deeper than before. Her back arches under him and she has to rip her face away, cries out to the side, allowing Chris to kiss along her jaw as she comes undone beneath him.

He wasn't lying when he said he was right there too, he lifts his lips away and concentrates on his jerking movements. He pushes through the remnants of her orgasm to reach his own, choking on a moan, and exploding wildly with unmeasured thrusts until he stills completely, falling limp above her and abandoning his face into Eva's neck, pecking his lips along the salty skin there until they catch their breath.

Retracting from her, he grips and discards of the condom swiftly into her the small trashcan by her bedside, but slides back onto the bed, this time under the mess of a comforter. He straightens it out and pulls her bare body underneath so that they're facing each other in the dim lamplight of her room.

Oh great, there are those nerves again.

But this time, it's the way he's looking at her. There's no sass, there's no smugness, it's just Chris staring at Eva with a glint in his eye that she will never admit could be something like an  _I care about you._

She's seen the softer side of Chris before. When he talks to younger patients, scared patients, he gets this bright glint in his eye that can make anyone trust him wholeheartedly, feel safe in moments of turmoil. But his eyes right now are new, they are flushed with sweetness, almost shyness, as he brushes his thumb against her cheek.

Her skin reddens under his touch. Despite what people may think after her disappearing act with Proctor, she isn't one for hook ups. She's not the best at relationships, and for whatever reason this feels like a mesh of the two and she's a little apprehensive about how they are going to move forward.

"It's up to you," he murmurs, reading her mind entirely and nudging her nose with his. "We can pretend it never happened or we can see where it goes."

"Alright," she agrees vaguely, kissing against the fingertips that she brings around to meet her lips.

She doesn't give him an answer right away, decides that it's something she should probably sleep on, something to reward with some deep thought.

Tonight they just can stay in their bubble…


End file.
